A Court of Mystery and Revelations
by Tivestria
Summary: It had always been three sisters. There were three in the book she loved, and she and her own were three as well. In her humble opinion, Becky was definitely Nesta, Lizzy was a mixture of Feyre and Elain, and she was a mixture of the three. It made sense. So when she died, ravaged by the water, why had they become four? [Full description inside]
1. Summary

It was three in the beginning.

It had always been three.

It was supposed to be three.

She had three sisters growing up, and when she had read that book, the three sisters reminded her of her own. In her humble opinion, Becky was definitely Nesta, Lizzy was a mixture of Feyre and Elain, and she was a mixture of the three.

They were three, and so were the sisters in the book. It made sense.

So when she died, ravaged by the water, why had they become four?

Why was she born the youngest of the Archeron sisters?

* * *

She had nothing. She was nothing.

They had made that blatantly clear enough throughout her life, cutting the fact into her very soul when they clipped her wings.

But she was older now. She learned of the fight to give Illyrian women like her their freedom, and their natural-born right to fight.

And she wanted in.

* * *

This story will have an AzrielxOC relationship and a MorxOC relationship, with two separate OCs.


	2. A Tragic End and A New Beginning

It was a thing all of its own.

It was darker, and stronger, wholly alien to me. What was once something seemingly beautiful and tranquil had long since lost that appeal, becoming a thing of relentless violence and cruelty.

If only I had been quicker to get inland.

For the sea had come roaring.

I had barely made it up the beach, having fallen asleep in the sun, hidden by myself where no one had seen me to warn of what was coming and somehow slept through the commotion that followed. When I had woken up, I had been startled by the sound of sirens instead of the laughter of children playing in the water - which I quickly realised there was also a startling lack of.

My stupid, groggy brain took far longer than it should have to piece together and react to what was going on, and the water was nearly there when the realisation finally hit me: I was going to die.

Then, the water struck.

_**~Tiv~**_

It was cold, frigid, even though it was the middle of summer, and it forced her down and gobbled her up, churning her in its grave. She was barely aware of the sand under her, the new ocean floor, being swept away as the water took her along, objects striking her at random.

_It was true what they said about dying._

When the realisation hit her, she saw them _all._

The good memories and the bad.

The faces of her friends, her family.

The realisation and sorrow that came with knowing she would never see them again.

Though she kicked, though she thrashed, she could not reach the surface, and she tried though she knew this, though she _knew_ she wouldn't have been able to even if she were a good swimmer.

She tried until she couldn't, until the cold of the water took away her feelings, until she lost her breath, and the darkness took everything away.

_**~Tiv~**_

It seemed to be an eternity that I was held in the depths of the icy water.

It was an eternity, and I wanted _out._

I wanted out _so badly._

It had been _so long._ Was there really _no one_ there who could save me from this hell?

I clawed again desperately around me, at the black waters sealing me to this nothingness, to no avail.

It had been _so long_ since I had seen the light of day, since I had seen the stars of night...

_Please, just one more time..._

I _swore_ I had heard something, or I that I had gone _insane._

No.

_I heard something._

I heard something, and something had finally _changed _in these cruel waters.

I _felt_ something.

It pushed me, pressing in on all sides until I thought I might die again - and frankly, I didn't _care._

But then it was _gone._

The cold water.

**_It was gone._**

And then, it happened.

I saw it again.

_Light._

I felt it again.

_Warmth._

I could move again.

**_I was free._**


	3. Reflections of Sorrows

_Chap__ter summary:_

_Years ago, Kareen, a young Illyrian female, reflected on her future and wondered if she would have the same fate as her mother._

_Coming now to her bearings, a young girl discovers her new fate as Layla Archeron, the youngest of four sisters... and that the world she knows is gone._

* * *

_The sounds were steady in the war camp. They were the sounds of fighting, of training. They were the quiet noises of women with clipped wings cleaning, of women with clipped wings cooking, of them caring for their children._  
_A young Illyrian girl, too young to have had her wings clipped, but old enough to know it would be coming soon, peered around as she helped her mother with the laundry. She gazed at the boys training with longing in her eyes. She knew better now than to ask if she could join them. She was female, so it wasn't her place._  
_She was female, so she was to clean, and cook, and care for the males. When she was older, she would have her wings clipped, and soon be given away to a male not of her choosing, and would become his possession, to cook and clean for him, to bear his children. If she had been found by her mate, she would belong to him._  
_As a female, she was nothing, and she owned nothing. She did not even own her own body._  
_She tore her gaze away from the training Illyrians and looked back at the laundry that she didn't quite feel inclined to do, and did it anyway._  
_As a female, she didn't even get to fly. Kareen wondered, then, what the reason for having been born with wings was if she wasn't allowed to use them._  
_To torture her, perhaps? To dangle what could have been a source of joy, of freedom, the wind racing against her as she twirled alongside the clouds, in her face, then tear it away as she begins to reach adulthood?_  
_That was far too cruel, she thought. She wanted to **fly,** to feel the wind blowing through her hair as she soared through the skies, laughter lost in the wind. But her mother was no different, so would she be? Her mother had her wings clipped, had been grounded just as had the other women. Her mother, who was **so strong,** couldn't escape this fate. What chance did **she** have?_

**_~Tiv~_**

With freedom came new knowledge, knowledge of more things than I cared to think about.

I internally sighed, going over everything I had learned in the past few days, my eyes sliding around my new room with dull eyes.  
_A Court of Thorns and Roses._  
With three elder sisters named Nesta, Elain and Feyre Archeron, it was plain to see that I had somehow either been reincarnated into that realm or been born into a family that was strangely obsessed with the series which was unlikely for a few blatant reasons.  
I still hadn't figured out what had happened to me after I died, and frankly, I wanted to forget it ever happened.  
_What happened..._  
I shivered, wiggling my baby body slightly and squeezing my eyes closed.  
The pure darkness, the strangeness of the seeming liquid that surrounded me, yet didn't drown me... Had it been the Cauldron or just some strange after-life?  
It probably didn't even matter anymore. What could be done, either way?  
It didn't matter anymore what has already passed.  
My family.  
My friends.  
All that has been left behind, who I would never see again for as long as I lived in this strange new world.  
My chest tightened and I once more fought back tears.  
Everyone I knew, gone. Everything I knew, gone.  
Everyone I _loved_...  
Gone.  
And there was nothing I could do about it.  
As I felt the waves of emotion press through me, I tried to focus on something else.  
_Layla Archeron._  
That was my new name.  
In the book, they had only three children, three _daughters_. Perhaps an unmentioned daughter had existed, but passed away?  
I shook my head. It was doubtful. This was likely some kind of alternate universe, assuming that the situation meant that they existed.  
But what was my role to be? Was there something I was meant to change?  
I sighed again, this time aloud.  
As a baby, there wasn't much sense in worrying about doing much other than crapping my diapers and crying for food, I supposed. Better to focus on learning this new language.  
Ah, yes.  
This new language.  
The nail on the coffin making me believe I had somehow been reborn in a book's alternate reality.  
They didn't speak English.  
Or Spanish.  
Or German.  
Or any other language I recognized the words of.  
This meant, of course, that, to exist in this new world, I needed to learn the language... Something I had never been very skilled at, if my repeated failure of my Spanish classes were to be any example of it.  
I felt a headache forming and squeezed my eyes shut once more, the sounds of people around the mansion speaking in a foreign tongue invading my senses.  
They were throwing a party, it seemed. Based on the timing, it was probably to celebrate my birth.  
I heard the door open, and my new mother came in and picked me up, beaming and bouncing me a bit. I couldn't bring myself to return the smile, and tried to ignore the worried crease of her brows as she held me closer.  
As we travelled down to the party, I tried to force myself to sleep, letting myself relax into my mother's arms.  
I could figure it out later, I decided, pushing away the thoughts of the future, of the present, and of my past, my family and friends who I'd never see again.  
I pushed them away, and I hoped.


	4. Cruelty and Snow

_Screaming. Wailing. Begging. Struggling._

_Kareen watched unnoticed through a gap in the window in abject horror at the scene unfolding before her eyes._

_Her cousin._

_They had her cousin._

_Rilah struggled, crying out, begging for someone, **anyone,** to step in and do something to make them **stop**._

_Obviously no one did. It wasn't as if any of them had the power to, anyway._

_She was effortlessly subdued as they performed what should have been an unspeakable, horrible act, but was instead the tradition of their people:_

_They clipped her wings._

_Kareen wasn't sure whether it was her or Rilah who screamed at that moment._

* * *

**_~Tiv~_**

* * *

I couldn't say that our mother had been the best mother.

If I was being truthful, she had become distant rather quickly, and I did not have much of a parent in my life.

Still, that did not make any difference to me or lessen the impact when she died on my 6th birthday after making Feyre promise to take care of us.

This loss hit us all hard, and we barely had time to start healing from it when all of our father's ships went missing the following year.

I had tried to tell him it wasn't a good idea, but who would listen to a 7-year-old?

I tried to back my sister up when the debt collectors inevitably came to attack our father.

I saw with Feyre as they mercilessly beat him, and destroyed his knee.

_Feyre won't hunt alone._

I'd decided that a long time ago.

She wouldn't be alone in caring and providing for our family as she had been in the books.

I was determined to make sure of that. It wasn't fair to her. She didn't deserve to be placed in that position.

We would hunt together, and we would take turns to give each other a rest. I would work hard and put my tailoring skills to use and make us clothes by hand, to save the money.

Even with the two of us working together, we would still be in poverty, but have a little bit more wiggle room. If I could, I would make it a point to ensure that Feyre got paints at least once a year for her birthday - a variety of colors.

She deserved it.

... I was 9 years old when I discovered that I couldn't do it.

_I couldn't do it._

Feyre found me, clutching my knife and knelt in the snow, sobs shaking my body.

"Leyla!" She cried, coming to me immediately, embracing me. "By the gods, what happened?!"

I shook my head, buying my face in her thin shoulder. "_I'm sorry._"

"You're sorry?" She was confused. "For what?"

"_... I couldn't do it. I'm sorry._" I whimpered after a moment.

She remained silent, allowing me to continue.

"I couldn't kill the bunny. I caught it and I couldn't kill it and it ran away over to its family and they ran away together. I... _I couldn't do it._"

Understanding dawned on her face.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not."

"It is," she whispered, a hand stroking my hair. "You tried. It's not for everyone. It'd be easier if you could help hunt - but you don't have to. At least you tried. Just do what you can. Help chop firewood, help make dinner, keep fixing up our clothes. You don't have to hunt, Leyla."

"You shouldn't have to take care of us alone!"

"I'm not alone," she smiled gently. "You're helping me. You don't have to hunt to help me, Leyla. You have no idea how much doing those other things helps. You have no idea how much money we're saving by you fixing our clothes - you've even made a few outfits for us yourself. Not having to get it at the tailor - it saves _so much_ money. You don't have to kill the bunny."

She gently brushed away a stray tear, lifting my chin to look me in the eyes.

"Okay?"

Slowly, I nodded.

Maybe I really didn't have to kill the bunny to take some of the burden off of her.

Maybe - if we saved enough money - maybe we could buy more cloth. Maybe I could start making clothes to sell.

Maybe I could help more that way, instead.

Maybe I really didn't have to kill the bunny.


End file.
